Deep Intentions of the Heart
by TwitchySeaHorse
Summary: DracoHermione. A father's hatred, and a love poisoned by their bloodlines. R&R.


**Dark Intentions of the Heart** (sappy, yes I know)

"You are no son of mine." The disappointment in the voice was thick. Abhorrence and distaste was written all over the pale white face. The icy blue eyes were transfixed on the boy with a sick twisted gleam. The ghastly lips curled into a small grin and the man turned on his heels, his white-blonde ponytail swishing behind him and landing in the middle of his back. The black cape hanging from his shoulders caught wind as his legs made long strides towards a large glossy black doorframe. The boy was left to ponder his cold words.

_No son of mine._ The boy stood motionless, watching the man as he disappeared into the darkness. His pale blue eyes held no emotion. Stoic was the only word to describe his face. By looking at him, no one could be sure of what he was truly thinking. There was no way of knowing just how hard the man's words had hit him.

"Draco?" Her voice was soft and held a quiet tremor. He didn't turn around. It was her fault that his father had been so displeased. He didn't want to say anything or have to look into her large, deep chestnut eyes full of confusion and fear. He just wanted out.

Out of this room. Out of this school. Out of...out of this relationship that had ruined everything.

He sighed heavily and glided towards a doorway, different from the one that his father had taken. His shoes making the slightest of noises on the marble floor beneath him. It was a moment or so before he heard her gasp alarmingly and take a small step towards him.

"Draco," a pause, "Draco wait. We can fix this. Just," another pause, this time more drawn out. He stopped, his back still towards her, staring into the hall in front of him. More soft footsteps crept slowly towards him. A smooth, slender hand gently touched his shoulder. He made no move to acknowledge it.

"Please don't go." She said in a beseeched whisper. Slowly, he moved his head and dropped his gaze to her hand on his shoulder.

"Leave me alone," he managed to say quietly. Another alarmed gasp expelled from the girl behind him as he walked away from her, letting her hand trail down his back until it stopped at her side. He made a left towards his common room and turned the corner just in time to hear her stifle a small sob.

His heart gave a lurch and he wanted to go back to her. He wanted to hold her in his arms just as he had only minutes before, and tell her he was sorry.

That wouldn't be happening any time soon. He was too angry with his love for her to apologize. He made it to the Slytherin common room, muttered the password, and entered the dark room with leather furniture. He glanced at a large clock, lit only by dim moonlight, on the wall. It was almost midnight. A quiet tinkering could be heard in another room. The house elves were just beginning to emerge from their hiding.

He sighed and sank into a cold leather couch. He propped his elbows on his knees and rested his head in his hands. His eyes closed and his mind wandered. He needed to do some serious thinking.

The day had begun like any other. The bell rang for classes to begin. First he had potions with the Gryffindors and Professor Snape. It was always his favorite class. He was able to torment Potter, and he could catch a secretive glimpse of _her._

After potions, it was Care of Magical Creatures with the Hufflepuffs, and then Divination again with the Hufflepuffs. When Divination was done, he had barely enough time to eat his lunch before he had to go change for Quidditch practice.

It was there, in the changing room, where she found him.

He had arrived late and, by the time he was done telling the captain why he was running so late, the dressing rooms were empty and he was alone.

He started to change the way he always did. First removing his shoes and cloak, then his shirt and lastly his pants. Then, he replaced the clothing in opposite order from which they had been removed. He never thought anything of it. He always thought that undressing and redressing was instinctive, and that there was no way else to do it.

He had just slipped on his tan Quidditch pants when he heard a soft footfall and slow, steady breathing. Not minding the fact that he was standing completely shirtless before someone he had yet to identify, he turned around and surveyed the area.

_Probably just someone who ran back to get their gloves_, he told himself. There was another sound of footfall and he turned back around, plucking his shirt from his pile of clothing.

"Draco?" A soft whisper came from behind a shelf. He dropped his shirt, startled that the voice was that of a girl. As hard as he tried, he couldn't keep the look of surprise from his face. The voice was all too familiar. He heard it all the time in the front of his Potions class. Professor Snape's voice crept into his mind.

_Insufferable know-it-all._

It was Hermione Granger.

Almost as if on cue, a bushy brown head poked out from the side of the shelf. Large brown eyes staring at him ashamedly, a pink veil of blush befell her cheeks. His eyes widened a bit and he broke through his surprise with a smirk.

"Sneaking a look of what you can't have, eh, mudblood?" He asked icily. She gasped and made a small 'tut' noise. He grinned, slowly turning around, letting the light reflect off of his perfectly toned stomach to tease her. He knew he was going to be even later for this, and would probably have to practice a lot more in return, but he figured that a few extra laps on his broom would be worth the look of temptation on the young girl's face.

She took a small step forward, watching his pale skin hungrily, wanting to just touch him with her fingertips. Her eyes traveled up and down his slender back as he slowly put his shirt on.

"Watch all you want, mudblood. What you see is what you get. Don't even think of making a move on me." His voice was smooth, and his accent rich. He sat down on a bench and slipped his boots and gloves on, tying them with precise care. He could feel her eyes on his back and he smiled, knowing that it must be taking all of her willpower to not touch him. He stood up and swept his emerald green cloak around him, fastening it on his shoulders. He grabbed his broom and began to take long strides towards the exit.

"I--" She began as he glided past her. He pretended to pay no notice. He had always enjoyed looking at her; in his opinion, she was very pretty. Her hair was a bit bushy, and her teeth were just a bit too big, but she was smart and her eyes were beautiful. And, he had seen her once in plain clothes, meaning in jeans and a tight fitting shirt, without her cloak. Her body was a work of art. Breasts not big enough to be envied, and hips barely above normal, but somehow it made her beautiful in her own special way.

As he passed her, he made sure to lightly brush his body against hers. She shivered a bit and his grin grew broader. The exit was only five steps ahead and something inside of him didn't want him to leave her there, with the image of him shirtless. He felt a soft touch on his back and he spun around. She drew her hand back, rapidly. He caught it while it was still in the air and she winced a bit at his cool touch on her bare skin.

"Draco, I'm sorry," she said quietly. Her voice no longer held the confidence it did when she was answering questions in Potions class. Instead it held a sound of embarrassment and fright. Keeping his grip on her arm, he took a small step closer to her.

"Sorry, is not the word," he said softly. He moved his face to hers and stopped just mere centimeters away, knowing that this was cruel and unusual punishment for her. He could feel her hot breath on his neck, coming out in rapid spasms--

A jabbing in his left shoulder jostled him from the deep pits of his mind. He opened his eyes and shook his head back to consciousness. He looked to his left to see large watery blue eyes staring at him over a large bulbous nose.

"Pardon us sir, but we need to know if you will be leaving the sitting area any time soon." The house elf spoke with incredibly good grammar. He never really saw them around, but then again, he was never really up this late. He sighed and bolted out of his seat, startling the poor creature, making it fall backwards.

Wordlessly, he stormed up the stairs to his dormitory and without changing out of his Quidditch clothes, slammed his body onto his bed and fell asleep.

End Ch. 1

A/N: I'm not too fond of the whole Draco/Hermione pairing, but I got an idea for the BEGINNING of this fanfic while I was in the shower. I'll update depending on how well I'm fed. Did I mention that reviews are my favorite type of food:D But seriously folks, reviews motivate me. And if you're familiar with my other works, you will notice that this is not nearly as good as "I'll Meet You At The Gate". (A Lucius/Narcissa story... That's my favorite pairing. )

Fondly,

Twitchy


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